Ian Jarvis, CEO, TransLink

With Lower Mainland regional transportation solutions veritably bred into him, TransLink CEO Ian Jarvis takes the puzzle that is arguably B.C.’s most complex and controversial organization quite personally. As would befit the CEO of any major corporation, Ian Jarvis enjoys a spectacular view from his 16th-floor corner office. But the stunning panorama from the Metrotown tower has particular significance for the top executive at TransLink.

Ian Jarvis, CEO, TransLink | BCBusiness
“It’s not just about transit; it’s about providing choices for people who work,” says Jarvis. “You can’t expect a plumber or electrician who works out of his or her truck to take transit.”

With Lower Mainland regional transportation solutions veritably bred into him, TransLink CEO Ian Jarvis takes the puzzle that is arguably B.C.’s most complex and controversial organization quite personally.

As would befit the CEO of any major corporation, Ian Jarvis enjoys a spectacular view from his 16th-floor corner office. But the stunning panorama from the Metrotown tower has particular significance for the top executive at TransLink.

“I grew up here,” Jarvis says, gesturing north toward the mountains. “I was born in Burnaby General Hospital, a couple of kilometres away. I grew up five kilometres from here. My first job was at Sears.” He turns toward the east, and looking past Burnaby Mountain and up the Fraser Valley, he tells how as a kid he would get up at daybreak on a Saturday and cycle five or six hours, past Maple Ridge, to Alouette Lake for a weekend camping trip.

In an open-necked shirt and beige pants, the 57-year-old speaks calmly and in measured tones. He sounds remarkably relaxed for a man who heads arguably the most complex and controversial organization in the province. The day before our meeting at his Metrotown office, he had presided over a press conference announcing an expected $472-million budget shortfall, and the scaling back of planned improvements to the transit system – improvements certain municipalities have been clamouring after for decades. The announcement dominated the previous day’s news cycle, and this morning the talk show lines are still buzzing with calls from irate citizens, every one of whom is sure he or she knows better than Jarvis how to manage the region’s transportation system.

Jarvis shrugs off the criticism, the second-guessing. “The things that we do are big,” he says. “They impact people’s daily lives, they cost money, and you’re naturally going to have these tensions, and that’s just part of the environment that we work in.”

Beyond memories of a bucolic childhood, the sweeping vista of the Lower Mainland outside Jarvis’s office is also a reminder that his father – along with thousands of others – played a role in building the region’s transportation system. A piledriver by trade, the senior Jarvis worked on the Deas Island Tunnel (since renamed the George Massey Tunnel), as well as the Arthur Laing, Alex Fraser and Port Mann bridges. Jarvis points with pride to a framed certificate atop a bookshelf; signed by premier Bill Bennett, it was awarded to his father in thanks for his work on the inaugural SkyTrain line. “That’s kind of in my blood,” Jarvis says of his commitment to the region’s transportation.

Jarvis did not follow directly in his father’s footsteps, but studied commerce at UBC then went on to become a chartered accountant. After seven years in public accounting practice, in 1999 he signed on as CFO of TransLink when B.C. Transit, a Crown corporation, was dissolved to be replaced by TransLink (formally known as the South Coast B.C. Transportation Authority). He served various executive positions within the transit authority, including chief operating officer and a stint as vice-president of finance for Coast Mountain Bus Co., before being confirmed as CEO of TransLink in February 2010.

It’s clear that what distinguishes Jarvis from the legion of armchair critics demanding instant fixes is a big-picture approach, which he attributes to his training in commerce. “What I learned is that people tend to go to solutions very quickly,” he explains. “But on most strategic issues you really need to understand the problem you’re trying to solve.” Turning again to the view out his window, Jarvis points to the ocean to the west, the mountains to the north and east. Add to those the border to the south, the multiple waterways and the designated land uses, such as the Agricultural Land Reserve, he explains, and you’ve got a puzzle whose solution will be found nowhere else on earth. “You need to develop solutions applicable to the region that we serve,” he says.

On one point he agrees with all of TransLink’s critics: whatever the solution is it will cost money, and a predictable, long-term source remains elusive. Putting aside for the moment the question of where the money will come from, Jarvis paints a picture of a transit network with rail serving as the backbone, building out SkyTrain to the east, and adding a rail line to replace the overburdened B-Line along Broadway. Then, there’s the road system: “It’s not just about transit; it’s about providing choices for people who work,” he says. “You can’t expect a plumber or electrician who works out of his or her truck to take transit.” All this has to be integrated with a system that makes walking and cycling equally viable choices, he explains.

As chair of the council of mayors, an advisory panel to TransLink, District of North Vancouver Mayor Richard Walton has worked closely with Jarvis for more than a half-dozen years. Tasked with mediating between the conflicting viewpoints and priorities, Walton is understandably reluctant to endorse one vision over another, but he is unreserved in his praise for Jarvis’s unique contribution to TransLink. “He probably understands public transportation in the region better than anybody, which is critical given the complexity of the system,” says Walton. “I found him to be forthright and I have tremendous respect for him. He puts his heart and soul into his job.”

Facing competing demands from truckers, commuters, pedestrians and cyclists, all demanding immediate action, Jarvis remains remarkably composed, perhaps reassured by the long view offered by a lifetime of getting around the region. As our interview draws to a close, he once again gazes out the window, taking in the changes he has seen since his childhood. He marvels at how a kid today could be at Alouette Lake inside an hour.

“Now you can actually – from right here, where we are right now – get on SkyTrain with your bicycle,” he says.

Words fail him as he gazes at the network of trains, buses and roads, wondering at how the pieces are slowly falling into place.